


Survivors

by zooeyglass



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, M/M, Marauders, Marauders AU, Marauders' Era, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-19
Updated: 2015-05-19
Packaged: 2018-03-31 08:31:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3971098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zooeyglass/pseuds/zooeyglass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Saturday night and Sirius Black accidentally walks into a dorm room which may or may not contain a Remus Lupin watching cheesy musicals while dressed in a truly atrocious pair of pyjamas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Survivors

Remus Lupin has always hated Saturdays.

Saturdays are long hours of three different shifts at three different jobs. Saturdays are checking under the couch for enough change to catch the bus ride back home. Saturdays are painfully awkward telephone conversations with his father. Saturdays are a blatant reminder of his friendlessness.

More than any of that, though, Saturdays are disorder. Saturdays are an unpredictability, a lack of a fixed routine, a world slightly dodged off its axis. Because no matter how well you prepare for a Saturday, something unexpected is bound to turn up, and Remus Lupin hates improvising.

This particular Saturday night is even worse because it just so happens to be Freshers night. The sound of music and drunken laughter fills the dormitory halls, coupled with footsteps running back and forth and an occasional sound of something crashing down every few minutes.

Remus raises the volume of his television as a feeble attempt to drown out the sound of someone counting down to something for the 42nd time in the past hour. He stuffs a fist-fill of popcorn into his mouth just as the door at the front of his dorm room bursts open and a boy (man?) stumbles in.

Remus gets up instantly and grabs the closest thing he can reach, which just so happens to be a purple lava lamp.

‘Oh – uh. This isn’t my dorm room.’

Remus wants to reply but is inexplicably silenced by how attractive the man is. He’s clearly a student, with sharp cheekbones and long hair tied messily in a bun and the greyest, most piercing eyes Remus has ever seen.

Remus is suddenly incredibly conscious of how ridiculous he must look, standing in the middle of the room wearing terribly oversized, multi-coloured pyjamas and ready to strike with a purple lava lamp, his mouth still full of popcorn. The stranger seems to notice this as he looks down at the pyjamas and smirks.

‘Uh, I don’t usually walk into the rooms of strangers unannounced,’ says the stranger. Remus is instantly aware of how confident he sounds, not at all ashamed or embarrassed to have walked into the wrong bedroom.

‘I don’t usually spend my Saturday nights wearing such atrocious pyjamas,’ says Remus once he swallows the popcorn, and the stranger grins.

A silence descends upon them as they continue to awkwardly stand across from one another before it is broken by the still-running television letting out a _yeeeaaah, it’s a party in the USA!_

_Shit,_ Remus thinks. _Shit shit shit._ He had forgotten that he had been watching Pitch Perfect.

‘I also don’t usually spend my Saturday nights watching cheesy chic-flick musicals?’, Remus lets out weakly, and the stranger is grinning in earnest now, clearly struggling to keep from laughing.

‘Tell you what,’ says the stranger, ‘you let me stay and watch with you and I’ll believe you.’

Remus’ uncertainty must have shown on his face because he then adds, ‘Look. My best mate James finally scored with the love of his life and ran off with her tonight, completely _abandoning_ me, and it’s crazy out there. Please let me just lie low here for a bit until it calms down.’

Remus thinks the entire thing sounds ridiculous, but something about the way the stranger’s hair casually falls across his face and the pleading look in his eyes just can’t not break his resolve. He slowly nods his head, and the stranger lets out another grin.

‘I’m serious, by the way.’

‘Uh – excuse me?’

‘Ah, shit, sorry. My name. It’s Sirius.’

‘I – you must be joking.’

‘No, I’m – ‘

 ‘Fuck, I walked right into that one, didn’t I?’

‘Yes. Yes you did.’

‘I’m Remus.’

The two settle down at the foot of the bed, across from the television that is still blasting out Pitch Perfect.

Remus thinks that he should probably be at least a little bit wary of having a strange man in his room this late at night, but Sirius just seems so relaxed and laid-back and comfortable that, probably for the first time in his life, it’s difficult for him to worry.

They watch the film in silence for a good few minutes before Remus remembers to pass over the bowl of popcorn.

‘Are you a spawn of the devil?’ Sirius asks incredulously, with genuine hurt in his tone of voice.

‘I – what?’ They’ve known each other for barely half an hour and already Remus finds himself racing to desperately catch up with this man’s thought process.

‘Who the fuck eats caramel popcorn instead of salt or butter?’

‘Who the fuck eats anything that isn’t sweet?’

‘I’m disappointed in you, Remus. You seem like the clever, reasonable sort. Why on earth would you allow yourself to commit such a fallacy?’

‘Are you sure you’re not being delusional? Because really, considering you didn’t even know which dorm room was yours, your judgement really isn’t much to go by.’

They grin at each other across the bowl of popcorn before settling into silence once again and continuing to watch the film, Sirius putting on a scowl as he grudgingly continues eating the popcorn. Remus is struck by how _comfortable_ the silence is, how his usual anxiousness that comes when he’s around new people seems to have disappeared, how for once in his life he’s actually glad to not be spending Saturday night alone.

They steal glances of one another as the film goes on, hurriedly looking away whenever their eyes meet. Remus can’t help but silently smile to himself when they do, dreading the end of the movie which will probably queue Sirius’ departure.

Remus looks over at Sirius when the film ends just in time to see him hastily wipe his face on his sleeve.

‘Sirius – oh my god are you crying?’

‘What? No don’t be ridiculous I just – ‘

‘Oh my god.’

‘No, look I just got some of your terrible popcorn in my eye and – ‘

‘Oh my god.’

‘Stop saying that!’

‘Oh my god.’

‘It’s a touching film okay!’

‘I can’t believe I just spent Saturday night with someone who teared up over Pitch Perfect.’

‘Now you’re just being insensitive towards my emotions.’

Remus notices that they’ve somehow ended up sitting very close together, with their knees touching and a single blanket draped over both their legs.

‘So,’ Sirius begins, ‘what’re you studying?’

‘Quantum Physics. And you?’

‘Philosophy.’

‘Damn, we’re not going to get dragged into the whole arts vs science debate now, are we?’, Remus asks.

Sirius lets out a short laugh. ‘You tell me. Why quantum physics, science boy? What is it about the moon and the stars that intrigue you so?’

‘Science is…science saves lives. Quite literally, I think. And if you understand quantum physics, you understand life and creation itself.’

‘This all seems very personal to you,’ Sirius says.

‘It is. I – uh – I almost died of cancer a few years ago. Science has literally saved my life. Ever since then, I’ve always known that science would be the path for me, so when Nottingham offered me the scholarship – ‘ Remus suddenly stops short then, instantly regretting mentioning his scholarship to this clearly rich, spoiled student in front of him. He decides to change the subject. ‘Why philosophy, then?’

‘Science is too, what’s the word, simple? Oh come on, don’t look at me like that. I mean, science simplifies things. When you think about it, our fields are essentially the same, both of us trying to understand the world. But science does it strategically, logically. Philosophy is much more reckless. It just goes wild with everything, complicating things unnecessarily, probably coming up with answers to questions that don’t even exist. I love the thrill of it.’

Remus can’t help but get taken by Sirius’ tone of voice, by the way he’s so skilled at commanding words and letting his thoughts come out exactly the way he wants them to, by the way so much passion fills his eyes as he talks about the subject he loves.

 ‘No tragic backstory dictating your future career, then?’, Remus asks.

Sirius lets out another laugh, a sound that seems to suffocate the air around him. ‘Well, I – my brother sort of passed away the summer before I joined university. And I guess I wanted to understand? Wanted to understand life, just like you. Everything seemed too simple. I’m guessing you can tell that I’m not the sort to think too much about things - I sort of just jump headfirst into everything I do – but I wanted university to be different. I wanted things to be more complicated than just life and death, you know? That’s why philosophy.’

‘It seems like a great way of creating hope,’ Remus says quietly, and Sirius nods.

It’s almost inconceivable to Remus that this man, who seems so at ease with everything and everyone around him, would have so much trouble with finding reasons to keep on going. He thinks of how easily he’s able to laugh or put a smile on his own face and realises that it’s probably from the practice of not having anything to laugh or smile about.

‘Anyway,’ Sirius says, clearing his throat, ‘Aside from your clearly misguided taste in popcorn, should I be worried about your general sanity? Not everyone lets random strangers watch movies with them. I could have been a serial killer, for all you knew.’

Remus laughs, unconsciously edging closer to Sirius. ‘Your leather jacket and combat boots aren’t nearly as badass as you think they are.’

‘No?’ Sirius raises an eyebrow. A really nice eyebrow. A really nice eyebrow that Remus should probably stop staring at just about now.

‘Besides,’ Remus continues, ‘I figured that someone running for their life from a bunch of drunk teenagers could only be so threatening.’

‘That’s so unfair. I’m sure they were at least 20.’

‘Ah. I see. That makes it so much more justified.’

Their faces are suddenly very close together, their noses a mere few inches apart. Sirius glances down at Remus’ lips at the same time as Remus looks down at his, and Remus holds his breath as Sirius edges closer still, their lips almost touching before Sirius gets up without warning and spills over the popcorn bowl in his lap.

‘I should go,’ says Sirius, and practically runs out of the dorm room without another word, Remus suddenly very aware of the cold air filling in the spaces occupied by Sirius’ body only moments before.

Remus finally bothers getting out of bed at around 2 pm the next day, turning on the kettle and preparing a cup of tea before he’s even made it to the bathroom. He hasn’t nursed a headache this bad for as long as he can remember, and he’s very decidedly _not thinking_ about the events of the previous night.

At around 4 pm, Remus hears a knock on his door, which he opens to find Sirius standing on the other side.

‘I’m glad to see you’re fully dressed this time,’ Sirius says with a fake laugh.

Remus doesn’t answer.

‘You won’t believe how hard it was to find your door the second time around. I’ve been roaming the halls for hours.’

Remus still doesn’t respond.

‘Look,’ Sirius says, walking into the room and closing the door behind him. ‘I know I owe you an apology.’

‘No, you don’t,‘ Remus bursts out, suddenly very angry. ‘I get it, okay? No one wants a scholarship kid with the threat of cancer looming over his head for the rest of his life. I get it.’

‘Do you – fuck, do you really think that’s what this is about?’ Sirius is practically sneering, and Remus realises that he’s just as angry as he is.

‘What is it about then?’ Remus takes a step towards Sirius, overcome with fury.

‘Maybe if you stepped out of your circle of self-pity you’d realise not everything is about you!’ Sirius takes a step towards Remus then sighs, suddenly very calm. ‘It’s about me. I’m a fucking mess, Remus. I can’t drag you into that. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.’

Remus steps closer until their faces are barely inches apart, and lets out a , humourless laugh. ‘I’m a fucking mess, too. Trust me.’

Sirius steps closer, uncertainty all over his face. Their noses are now just touching. ‘What guarantee do you have that this is the right thing to do?’

Remus moves forward until his lips and just brushing Sirius’. ‘We’re both survivors. We both know what death feels like. That’s why we know how to recognise something that makes us feel alive.’

And then they’re kissing, teeth clashing and lips moving against one another with all the passion and urgency and softness and desperation in the world, Remus’ fingers tangling in Sirius’ hair, Sirius’ arms wrapped around his waist.

It doesn’t feel like surviving. It feels like living.

**Author's Note:**

> I had so much fun writing this honestly if you enjoy reading this half as much as I loved writing it I shall be happy.


End file.
